The Show Must Go On
by Sparkly Palm Tree
Summary: Why should he breathe when Batman wasn't? /Prompt based:Robin becomes Batman/
1. Chapter 1

**Based on this wonderful prompt by tydee rose: batman dies and robin is a mess, but basicy how he handles life without batman. I want him all sad and crying then steping up and taking on the batman mantle and wanye enterprises. i also have an image of him clinging to batman's cape. oh and have young justice in it and i also pictured a big secen,with all the league and young justice there, and robin revels his ID(manly to the team cause the league knows) and saying that he is the air to wanye enterprises and must be the ceo to that and baman mantle but do whatever works**

 **i own absolutely nothing**

Robin felt frozen.

Not like Victor Fries or his wife or any of the Icicles or even Captain Cold.

He felt frozen now the same way he'd been frozen five years ago as he watched his family plummet to their deaths, to the cold ground.

He couldn't move. He could barely breathe. He'd used all his air screaming. Not that he'd had much in the first place.

Why should he breathe when Batman wasn't?

Batman.

It. Wasn't. FAIR!

This wasn't Justice!

He pounded on his mentor's still chest. Why was it so still?

He hit harder, sobbing. He might've been ashamed of getting the suit wet from his tears, if it wasn't already soaked. Water. Not an explosion or a gunshot or fire or a knife. Water. The Dark Knight had been killed by water. The Batman had been drowned.

Robin would have too, but Batman had given the rebreather to him. _Not enough air,_ his mentor had signaled. He'd ripped off the cape, it was weighing him down, especially in the water. Of course it was, it was Kevlar ball gown. They had activated their emergency beacons before discarding their empty utility belts. They were each shackled to cinder block, as if the iron chains alone hadn't been enough to weigh them down.

Air hadn't even been the biggest issue. The temperature was. It had been ice on top, with a layer of slush just below. They had sunk to the bottom, where it was still water, but seemed even colder. Aquaman and Kaldur'ahm had come, but it was too late. Superman had flown over, arriving as the thirteen year old began to pound on the Bat's chest. Both Flashes had sped over, but they had the same problems with water as the Bats.

Correction: Bat. He was all alone. Again.

He pushed down feebly on the chest, trying to do CPR, but he was weak from the air loss and the cold.

He kept at it until he felt a pressure on his shoulders. Superman had put something on him. The cape.

He clutched it around himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try and pretend that Bruce had draped it around him.

He buried his head into the unmoving chest, trying to keep his shoulders from shaking but failing miserably. Failing the way he'd failed Batman. Robin's job was to make sure Batman got home safely, regardless of what happened to him. Someone had to be there to complete the mission.

The mission was the most important thing.

He lifted his head from Batman's shoulder, still trembling. He looked out onto the city's harbor, narrowing his eyes.

He'd failed his mentor, but he wouldn't fail Gotham. He didn't want to, but if he stepped back, who would complete the mission? Who would be the Batman?

"I will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Based on this wonderful Prompt by Tydee Rose: batman dies and robin is a mess, but basicy how he handles life without batman. I want him all sad and crying then steping up and taking on the batman mantle and wanye enterprises. i also have an image of him clinging to batman's cape. oh and have young justice in it and i also pictured a big dramtic secen,with all the league and young justice there, and robin revels his ID(manly to the team cause the league knows) and saying that he is the air to wanye enterprises and must be the ceo to that and baman mantle but do whatever works**

 **I don't own. Also i realized that Dick is tiny for his age. How the heck was he gonna fit into the batsuit? I should have aged him up, but too late now. So I brought Jason in as a big brother.**

* * *

Silence filled the halls of the Watchtower, and Superman hated it.  
His footsteps echoed as he walked to the meeting room. Everyone stared at him blankly.

The doors slid open - had they always been that loud? - revealing the grim faces of the seven original Leaguers and one Alfred Pennyworth.

Clark marched over to his spot, just left of the head chair. He was glad Alfred was here. It would have been too painful to see that chair empty.

Diana nodded at him. She cleared her throat, catching everyone's attention. "We're here to discuss what to do with. . ." her tone softened. "Robin."

More silence.

Green Lantern spoke up first, breaking the horrible absence of sound. "Are we going to allow him to continue to patrol?"

Barry shot up, looking angry. "You think he's going to want to patrol?" the Speedster hissed. "The kid just lost his father! Again! He's traumatized, he wouldn't even want to patrol!"

John narrowed his eyes, but looked surprised at the man's outburst. "I didn't mean- Look. Someone is going to have to take care of Gotham, and-"

Shayera's head snapped around. "You want to put him back on the streets alone!? That city's full of crazy people! He's thirteen! Like Flash said, he's going to be traumatized!"

The butler at the head of the table spoke up next. "If I may," the English gentleman began. "I believe you are all undervaluing Young Master Richard's commitment to the city of Gotham. He will continue to patrol, alone or not. If anything, his grief will make him more dedicated to his father's values."

"I think before we decide that," Clark said carefully, knowing he could soon face the wrath of the original Bat; Alfred. "We have to decide if he should even stay in Gotham."

"What do you mean by that, my friend?" J'onn asked.

"I'm saying. . . " Clark trailed off, noting the way the butler's blue eyes flashed dangerously. "Maybe it would be best if he was in an environment that wasn't so reminiscent of Bruce. I'd be happy to take him to Metropolis, he already has a room there. Lois loves him, and he's like a nephew to me."

"As he is like a grandson to me, Mister Kent," Alfred said warningly. "I believe he would be more comfortable in his own home."

This wasn't going where Clark wanted it to. The League was already against him because of the Superboy issue. "Wayne Manor is so large, and everything would remind him of Bruce. And, Alfred, are you sure you're up to raising a child again?"

"Are you implying I'm unfit to take care of him?" The butlers withering look was more powerful than Bruce's glare had been. emHad been/em. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and opened his mouth to speak when Alfred cut him off. "If you are so eager to take care of a child, I believe you have one of your own."

This brought a couple of smirks./p

"Furthermore, you'll find the battle for custody has more than enough players without a Reporter with no apparent connection to Master Dick or Bruce joining."

"Alfie," the Flash said, hazel eyes concerned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that many want custody of him. The League of Assassins in particular has made it abundantly clear that they would be more than happy to have guardianship of Master Dick, because apparently Ra's al Ghul and I share the grandfatherly role. And I _know_ Talia thinks of herself as a mother to the young master. Not to mention Master Jason's claim to the lad."

Diana gasped, and an odd expression flickered across her face. Clark knew that Diana and Bruce had a relationship. Sometimes. So she especially had bonded with Robin, especially when he was new to the world of crime fighting. He could still picture the tiny eight year old peeking out from behind Bruce's cape.

"Indeed, Miss Prince," Alfred said, patting her hand kindly. "So you'll understand that I'd prefer him near, in Gotham."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a grandson to console."

* * *

"Bat-computer, search again." Alfred couldn't help but sigh as he saw his youngest - only, now - charge curled up on the seat before the Batcomputer, black cape draped over his shoulders like a blanket.

He was still at it.

After he returned to the Batcave, the young master had shut down all emotions, and it was eerily reminiscent of Bruce before a Robin and after Jason's death. He was burying himself in work.

"Young Master, do you intend to spend the remainder of your life in this cave?"

The lad didn't even glance up, he just continued typing. "I'm finding the man who killed him. He deserves that much."

"Of course, sir. I just thought it would be rather hard to act as head of Wayne Enterprises when so bent on _revenge_."

Now he had his attention. The boy whirled around in the chair, eyes impossibly wide. "It's not revenge! I'm getting him _**justice**_ ," his shoulders slumped minutely. "As much as I want revenge. . ."

For a fleeting moment, he saw Bruce saying those exact words in that chair. His fists clenched at his sides. "It has been a week since the funeral, perhaps I should-" Alfred was cut off by his elder wayward 'grandson'.

"Tell me they're wrong! The media- they get it wrong all the time! This is just one of his plots!" Jason cried as he ran into the cave, soaked from the rain. Alfred shook his head stoically, watching as the nineteen year old's eyes scanned the cave, until they landed on Dick. His green eyes widened pleadingly.

Master Dick looked down. "I'm sorry."

Jason's green eyes narrowed dangerously, mood swinging wildly to rage. "Who?" he growled. "I'll kill him."

"Jason, you can't!" the Young Master cried, showing more emotion than he'd seen from the boy since they'd brought back the body. " _Gotham_ needs you! _I_ need you!"

The young man's expression softened as he looked at the boy. He'd come forward to be closer to the computer screen, but now he knelt in front of the lad and opened his arms for an embrace. The boy flung his arms around his brother, and Alfred was rather surprised to see that both of them shook violently.

He watched as Richard clutched his brother's shoulders, sobbing, and the way Jason held on even tighter.

Alfred felt a pang go through his heart that he wasn't the best form of comfort for his boys.

He left quietly and quickly.


	3. Chapter 2 (Different)

**Ok, I looked back at this and I was like...:-|... I don't like chapter two. Also, I don't like that I put Jason in. Like that. But also at all. So I'm adding a different part that I'll base the rest of it off of.** **Yay!**

"Young Master, are you certain that this is the . . . ah, wisest course of action?" Alfred asked the small thirteen year old before him.

The boy shrugged on his Armani suit jacket before stopping to stare at the butler with those big blue eyes. "Not at all," Dick said quietly, still not breaking the gaze. "I'm not certain about _anything_ right now. But I do know that the press needs something to harp on besides the. . . funeral and this fits the bill. Besides, someone has to do it."

"I suppose that if you're so intent on that someone being _you_ , the least I can do is make you look presentable for the public eye," Alfred tugged on the blue tie, tucking it into a perfect form. He smiled gently at the child he considered his grandson.

Dick's smiled back, just as softly, so different from the confident beam of the child from four weeks ago. He threw his arms around the butler, and Alfred clutched the boy to him.

"Lucius will be right beside me the whole time," the young master murmured into Alfred's stomach. "I'll be fine. It'll be great."

Alfred stroked the silky black hair a few more times than strictly necessary. "I'd expect nothing less."

* * *

Lucius was true to his word, and stayed beside Dick the entire time, starting from when he got out of the Rolls Royce. The CFO greeted him at the entrance of Wayne Enterprises.

"Dick," the man smiled tiredly at him, dark skin contrasting with the dull grey of his heavy peacoat. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm _actually_ holding up, so that's a start," Dick said softly, forcing his lips upward. He studied the man carefully as they walked through the busy corridor. Lucius looked exhausted and overworked, his dark hair had even more gray than usual. "What about you?"

"Busy," the man began, putting a friendly arm around Dick's shoulders as if to shield him. The workers and secretaries all stared at him, no doubt wondering what the heir to everything Wayne was doing here so soon after the 'tragedy'.

The cover story had been truly pathetic. A skiing trip gone wrong. An 'honest mistake'.

Nobody would ever know how Bruce had truly died, and as much as the absence of the billionaire had effected Gotham's daily life, the lack of the Dark Knight had struck the city even harder.

It had been four weeks since the incident, and no one had seen the Caped Crusader since. Robin had been spotted a few times, to put heavy hitters like Two-Face or Scarecrow back into Arkham, but the Dynamic Duo seemed to be skirting their duties.

Dick had only been able to sneak out of Clark and Alfred's watchful gaze a few times. They had forbidden him from patrol, but Gotham simply couldn't survive without at least one of her protectors. Gotham wasn't like Metropolis or Central City, where they had a happy innocent population with a handful of slightly eccentric, colorfully clad, trigger happy villains. Where everything was black and white.

In Gotham, there were more than just fifty shades of grey. The person you saved from a benigma held at gunpoint might be an escaped murderer, and the gunman could be a victim of a new drug that was making him act that way or was perhaps the family of the killer's latest victim, taking the law into their own hands because _surely_ the corrupt officers of Gotham PD wouldn't.

So the city's crime rate shot up again.

"We're here," Lucius broke Dick from his thoughts. "You ready?"

He shook his head even as he stepped into the boardroom, taking a deep breath.

 _Think of this as a performance_ , he told himself.

The crowd was waiting.

* * *

"Pontmercy," Ra's al Ghul said plainly, seizing the assassin's attention.

The man spun around, brown eyes widening in fear, and he nearly dropped the body.

Pathetic. Not to mention that the body he had been transporting would become his heir. Not that Ra's needed one, he would live forever. He had already lived centuries. But between Talia and the man, he could sire a grandson, a child bred to be truly worthy of the mantle of Demon Head and the Bat.

"You are dismissed. Leave the island immediately," Ra's snapped his fingers at a Shadow behind him, who immediately took Pontmercy's place. Honestly, the - now former - assassin should be honored he hadn't killed him, much less knew his name.

Talia rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling slightly. It was time.

"Begin the process!" his daughter ordered.

The servants lowered the body of Bruce Wayne into the Lazarus Pits.


End file.
